


You are my secret

by earpsshaughty



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Homophobia, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29609949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earpsshaughty/pseuds/earpsshaughty
Summary: Clarke is just an average High school Senior trying to figure out what to do with her life. But then a new student transfers and her whole life is turned upside down.Tigger warning:Homophobic slurs, abuse, and homophobia actions
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Costia/Lexa (The 100), Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

First time I saw her was in the mirror on my locker door. I’d kicked my swim gear onto the bottom shelf and was reaching to the top for my calf book when she opened her locker across the hall. She had a brunette ponytail dangling out the back of her baseball cap.

Great. Now I was obligated to rag on her for violating the new dress code. Forget it, I decided. My vote — the only dissenting one in the whole student council — still counted. With me, anyway. People could come to school buck naked for all I cared. It wasn’t about clothes.

We slammed our lockers in unison and turned. Her eyes met mine. “Hi,” she said, smiling.

My stomach fluttered. “Hi,” I answered automatically. She was new. Had to be. I would’ve noticed her.

She sauntered away, but not before I caught a glimpse of her t-shirt. It said: IMRU?

Am I what?

She glanced back over her shoulder, the way you do when you know someone’s watching. That’s when it registered — the rainbow triangle below the message. My eyes dropped. Kept her in my sight, though, as she disappeared around the corner.

I shifted my attention to my schedule. Brit Lit, calc, U.S. History, then art and econ after lunch. Was I out of my mind? Why was I taking a full load my last semester of high school? Weren’t we supposed to revel in this time, embrace our friends, screw around until graduation? At some pivotal point, of course, we’d decide the direction our lives were going to take. A derisive laugh might’ve escaped my lips. Like I got to decide anything about my life.

I headed down the deserted hallway, clutching my books to my chest. This is insane, I thought. I don’t even need the credits. I’d gotten to choose the early track — first class at seven, last class at one — but then I added econ at the last minute so I’d be finishing the day with everyone else. I drew a deep breath — and coughed. Who needed to get stoned before school when you got a free ride from the carpet-cleaning fumes?

The morning was a blur. As I stumbled to lunch, my head reeling from the volume of homework I’dalready accumulated, my anxiety mounted. I’d be up till midnight, easy.

“Babe!” Finn called across the crowded cafeteria. He looked to the double doorway to meet me. Kiss me. “We’re over here.” He thumbed toward the vending machines, snaking an arm around my waist and steering me along.

“Hi, Clarke. Hey Finn,” a few people greeted us as we weaved between tables. I assumed my oh-so-happy face. Plaster-casted smile. What was wrong with me? I loved school. I couldn’t wait to get back after winter break. 

“Clarke, did you see Mrs. Carter? She was looking for you,” Octavia said as she cleared a place beside her for me to sit. “She said to tell you to drop into the college career center sometime today.”

Today, tomorrow, never. Popping the top can of Cola that Finn had set in front of me, I said to Morgan across the table, “How was Christmas in California?”

Octavia kicked my shin.

Uh-oh

Morgan sighed theatrically. “You had to ask.” She launched into a psychodrama about how her mother was a raving lunatic the whole two weeks and all they did was scream and argue with each other.

Finn split his fries with me and I zoned out. He said in my ear, “You want ketchup?” I must’ve nodded because he got up and left.

Octavia and Morgan began to talk about life after high school — again. Could we get through one whole day without bringing up the subject? Morgan said, “Mom wants me to commute to Scholar University and live at home. Like that is going to happen.” she rolled her eyes. “All I want to do is graduate and get the hell out of this hell hole.”

I checked out again. At some point, Finn returned with the ketchup and I swabbed a greasy fry through the watery glob. Round and round it goes; where it stops, nobody knows. Finn nudged me. “You okay?”

I glanced up to find everyone staring at me. Was I chanting out loud? Relinquishing my hold on the mutilated fry, I crossed my eyes and said, “I got Anderson for Brit Literature.”

They all went, “dannngg.” Octavia added, “Don’t ever be late. She’ll call you out in front of everyone.”

I grimaced. I hated when teachers did that. “You know,” I said, picking up my cheeseburger, “all these anti-bullying policies should apply to teachers. I mean, corporal punishment is illegal.” I chomped into my burger and chewed. “Public humiliation,” I said with my mouth full, “is a form of psychological abuse.”

By their bobbing of heads, I assumed they all agreed. What were we going to do about it? Nothing. Even though I was president of the student council, I felt powerless to affect the change of any social significance at our school. 

I take that back. We now had a pop machine in the hall.

  
  


Drawing Level 1 was, as Finn referred to it, a bullshit class. But I needed to fill time between lunch and econ. As I wandered down the art wing, feeling totally out of my element, I wondered what mental aberration had possessed me when I chose an art elective. Drawing, no less, which probably required talent. More than doodling in notebooks.

The assigned studio, 312A, had four rows of tables set end-to-end with chairs arranged haphazardly. No semblance of order. I slid into a plastic-seat in the back. My uneasiness grew as I studied the crowd clogging the doorway and milling around the display cases. Not the kind of people I usually associated with -- which was okay. I didn’t have a problem with diversity. It was just…. I don’t know. I felt weird. I decided I was going to drop the class. Maybe add another study hall. I was going to need it.

A man’s voice in the hallway herded everyone inside. As people filed across the threshold, I caught sight of her. The baseball cap was gone: now her hair flowed around her shoulders. Her eyes darted across the studio and stopped on me. I wanted to look away, but couldn’t. She held me somehow, spellbound.

The instructor bustled in and broke the connection. Oh, god. He looked like Einstein on ecstasy. “Just find a seat anywhere,” he said to the stragglers. As he turned to write his name on the board, I flipped open a spiral. When I glanced over surreptitiously, she’d slipped into a seat upfront. Another girl slid in beside her. I knew that girl -- Echo. She was on the swim year last year for about a week. Right about the time Finn and I hooked up.

“I realize you can’t read this,” the instructor said as he ran a palm over his cotton candy hair, “but it says, Anthony Peterson.” He was right. His handwriting was gorgeous, all loopy and bold, but you’d need clearer vision than mine to decipher it. I squinted through my contacts; that was a P? He brushed chalk off his hands and added, “ You cal call me Peter or Peterson, doesn’t matter to me.”

I wrote down, Mr. Peterson. Then drew a line through it and printed, Peter.

“If I want to get paid, I have to turn this in.” He flapped a computer printout at us. Hopping onto the desk, he curled crosslegged and uncapped a Flair. “Anderson, Michelle.”

“Present.” A girl at the end of my row raised her hand and Peter scratched a checkmark.

A few people I did actually know. It’s inevitable when you’ve lived in the same place your whole life. The guy with the serious orange spikes and nostril ring was in my calculus class. Carter Jacobs. I remembered him from computer science sophomore year, except back then Carter was a geek. Brilliant, though. And sweet. Another reminder of why people shouldn’t be judged on appearance.

Mr. Peterson -- Peter -- progressed through the list. For some reason, I was focusing on the back of the brunette girl’s head, only half listening for my name. “Alexandria Woods,” Pete read. Her hand shot up and said, “It’s Lexa.”

I wrote it down. Alexandria Woods. Lex? Lexa?

Lexa, I decided and drew a box around it.

“Clarke Griffin.”

A couple of heads swiveled. “What?” I blinked.

“Clarke Griffin?”

“Oh here.” I raised my hand. Added in a mutter, “Apparently not all here.”

She twisted around and smiled. My stomach lurched. I shielded my face with my hand and pretended to scribble notes

Peter handed out a supplies list. It was long. There were pencils, ink, charcoal, erasers, markers, pens, two sizes of drawing tablets. God, I’d have to work a month of overtime to afford all this stuff. Peter said, “I know it’ a short week, but I’d appreciate it if you could get your supplies in the next couple of days. Go to Hobby Lobby or Walmart for the best prices. If anyone had real financial needs, come see me after class. That doesn’t mean you’d rather spend your money on a kegger.” He eagle-eyed the room. “But I have a starving artist fund, so don’t be shy.”

I liked that. He was understanding. Maybe I’d wait to drop.

  
  
  


At two-fifteen the bell rang and I gathered my books and notes from econ, feeling totally brain-dead. Lockers banged open and closed as I trudged down the hall. “Hi, Clarke. Have a good break?” someone called.

“Great, thanks.” I waved, plastering on The Smile. Get me out of here, I thought. Static crackled in my head like a radio stuck between stations. The halls began to clear and my locker materialized, finally. As I twisted the combination lock, I heard across the way, “So, you just transferred? Where’d you go before here?”

I opened the door and captured Echo and Leca in my mirror.

Lexa said, “Eastside Central.”

Echo said, “Oh, yeah? Do you know who Costia is? She’s one of us. Costia Knight.”

“Doesn’t sound familiar.”

“You have to know her.”

“I said I don’t.” The sharpness of Lexa’s voice made me turn around. Echo caught my eye and I turned back. In my mirror, I watched as Lexa shoved a book into her backpack and removed a fleece vest off the hook. She let out a long breath and said, “Sorry,” to Echo. “It’s been a rough day.” 

“I can imagine.” Echo smiled knowingly. I wondered what she knew. Echo held the backpack while Lexa put on her vest. Their conversation muted as a herd of people stampeded past. I caught the tail end of Echo’s “... go for a Coke or something?”

“I can’t,” Lexa said. “I have to work.” She retrieved the pack from Echo and slung it over her shoulder. I realized I was eavesdropping shamelessly and squatted to unzip my swimming duffel.

“How come you transferred?” Echo asked.

“Health reasons.” Lexa slammed her locker. “My car wouldn’t start this morning and I don’t really want to wait here for my brother to pick me up. Do you think you could give me a ride to work?”

“Sure,” Echo chirped. “No problem.” They headed out together.

Echo had said, “One of us.” Does that mean she was gay?

Huh. I didn’t think we had anyone who was gay at our school. Until now.

I loaded up my backpack and grabbed my duffel, thinking, I guess it pays to advertise.


	2. Chapter 2

As I dragged in the back door at home, Mom called, "Clarke, is that you? I need you." I dumped my stash on the lading and followed her voice to the living room. "Oh, good," Mom said. "Could you finish feeding Grace for me? I have got to pee."

I relieved her for the baby and the bottle. "Hello, Grace," I cooed, lifting her in the air so she'd smile dimples at me. So cute. Settling her in the crook of my arm, I inserted the bottle between her gooey lips, then crossed the to sprawl on the sofa. I propped Grace against my bent knees. She suckled and flapped her chubby arms, making me laugh. God, she was precious. Sometimes it felt as if she were mine.

Mom padded in, breathing relief and refastening the jaw clip in the back of her hair. Flopping into the armchair, she asked, "How was your day?"

"Good." I let Grace's tiny fingers curl around my thumb. "How was yours?"

"Exhausting. Did you stop in to see Bonnie Carter? I asked her to get you a few more catalogs and applications -- just in case."

"Oh, damn." My head fell back against the armrest. "Sorry, I forgot." 'In case' meant in case Yale and Brown rejected me as Harvard had. Those colleges were way out of my league, but try to tell my mother that. She forced me to apply for early decision, even though I could've told her what the decision would be. Early or Late.

"The deadline for filing applications at most schools is February first, Clarke," she said. "That doesn't give us much time. And you don't want to settle for some in-state school like Scholar University." She wrinkled her nose.

"I'll go tomorrow. Would you toss me that towel?" Grace's drool was stringing to her chest. Mom got up and handed me the towel off her shoulder. "Kita is coming this weekend."

"Again? We just got rid of her."

"Clarke," Mom chided.

"Well. I'm sorry but --" I bit my tongue. She'd heard it all before.

Kita was my wicked stepsister if I had to claim her as a relative. She was a walking freakshow. Currently, she was into Goth, which was just sick after Columbine. We'd bonded like repelling magnetic poles. Steven, my new stepdad, introduced us only a few weeks before his and Mom's wedding, and I knew instantly we weren't going to be playing one-big-happy family. I could tolerate Kita, barley, every other weekend, but after Grace arrived and Mom converted my bedroom into a nursery, Kita and I had to share bedroom space downstairs. At my murder trial, the jury would find that the defendant had a case for justifiable homicide.

Not a lot of people got under my skin, but Kita did and she knew it. new it and used it.

I ran my knuckles across Grace's silk cheek, wondering if I'd ever had such flawless skin.

Mom perched on the sofa arm, fanning her fingers through my hair. "I know how you feel about Kita, but she's young."

"Se's fifteen." Under my breath, I added, "going on six."

Mom sighed. "I appreciate your patience with her."

Like I had any.

"It won't be long now. You'll be leaving soon enough for college. Too soon." Mom tweaked my nose. She reached over to pluck Grace off my stomach and asked, "Where's Finn going? Has he decided?"

"Stanford, last I heard." It was a subject w avoided like the plague. Finn wanted us to go to the same college, the probability of which was less than zero given the fact he could pick and choose. Finn had goals. He was going to be a microbiologist. By age twenty-five, he'd be happily married with two point five kids, a dog, a three-car garage -- the whole Big Mac with cheese. He said he couldn't stand the thought of us being separated for four years, that even if we didn't get into the same college we should try to stay close. As in proximity. He'd been pressing me to commit. To something, anything.

I rolled off the sofa and pushed to my feet. Stretched my back and yawned.

Mom said, "Did you get a new work schedule?'

"Not yet. I need to find out about swim team practice. I'll do that tomorrow, too." Trailing Mom and Grace to the kitchen, I thought out loud, "God, I have a shitload of homework."

Mom twisted and frowned at me.

"Sorry, Grace." I cupped my hands over her tiny ears. "You didn't hear Sissy's gutter mouth."

Mom evil-eyed me, but couldn't suppress her grin.

"Tell me again why I have to take so much crap this semester?" I lugged my duffel up to one stiff shoulder my backpack to the other.

"Because you're going to need a scholarship. it isn't fair to expect Steven to pay for your college education, and what I've saved wouldn't cover one semester at Harvard."

Which she didn't have to worry about, since they declined my offer to sweep their hallowed halls for a mere forty grand a year.

"Those classes will look good on your transcript," Mom said. "Show you're serious."

"About majoring in masochism?"

She ignored me. "It'll put you that much further ahead. Oh, and ask Bonnie to loan you that book on private scholarships again, will you? Just in case."

Just in case I'm a universal reject.

"Clarke?" Mom called at my back. "I was at the pharmacy picking up my prescription and they gave me yours by mistake." 

My face flared.

"It's on your desk. You can pay me back out of your next paycheck."

I mumbled, "Okay, thanks," and sprinted down the stairs. If she had her suspicions about Finn and me before, they were now confirmed. The crypt, otherwise known as my basement bedroom, was dim even with all the lights on. Mom and Steven had tried to transform it into a cozy little cubbyhole, with curtains and bookshelves and partitions between our bedrooms. But it'd always be "the unfinished basement" to me. 

It wasn't that I resented giving my old room to Grace; it was having to share my privacy with the goddess of Goth. "Every other weekend," I reminded the hold rafters, drafty though they were. If Kita was going to be handing around her that often, my friends would get their fill of me.

Sighing, I flung my pack on the bed and started stripping. The white pharmacy bag on the desk begged attention, so I snatched it up and carted it to the bathroom, ripping it open. Wow, I'd even forgotten to stop by after school and pick up my pills. I didn't remember calling in the refill, and my period ended two days ago. I was a wastoid.

I popped out Monday and Tuesday. Caught up. Wouldn't Mom have a hemorrhage if I got pregnant in high school, too? She'd kill me. She had plans for Clarke Griffin. And they didn't include what Clarke Griffin wanted. Whatever that was. I threw on my grubby sweats and settled in for the duration.

* * *

The ringing of my cell phone jerked me out of Beowulf. I dogeared the page and riffled through my bag, catching the phone on the fourth ring. "Hello?" 

"Clarke, you need a study break?" Finn said in his most suggestive voice.

"Yeah, but if we do that, I'll never get back into it."

He chuckled. "Can I come over?"

I checked the time. Twenty to eleven. "For a little while. I haven't even started my calculus problems."

"See you in ten," he said and hung up.

I refolded the phone and resumed reading. A few minutes later, a rap sounded on the basement window. I leapt off the bed and sprinted up the stairs, where Finn's face materialized in the back door window.

He took one step inside and peered into the kitchen. "Is Steven here?" he whispered.

"No, he's in Baltimore on business," I whispered back.

"The dragon lady asleep?"

I nodded. 

Finn wiggled his eyebrows.

"I mean it, Finn. Not long, okay?"

He tiptoed down the stairs behind me.

We'd gotten pretty good at fast and soundless sex. Mabe after year it was supposed to be that way. Easy. Rehearsed. He took off a little before midnight, leaving me with another two hours of homework. New rule, I decided. Not on a school night. And that included Sunday. Wouldn't my mother be proud?


	3. Chapter 3

Somebody splashed acid in my eyes -- at least that's what it felt like. I dug around in my duffle for the case and removed my contacts. Sure, you could swim with contacts in, if you didn't mind going blind. Shit. Now I'd have to wear my glasses all day. I should've searched harder for my goggles this morning.

the locker across from me clanged open and I blinked up to my mirror. There she was, clutching a mega cup of coffee in her left hand, a donut between her teeth. As she reached down for something in her locker, she disappeared from view.

"Ow, ow, shit!"

I whiled. The plastic lid on her cup had fallen off and scalding coffee had poured down her arm. She was hopping around, holding her wrist. I unzipped my duffel and yanked out the first wet thing on top, then charged over and slapped it up against her arm. "Here, use this."

"Owww," she yowled.

I winced, knowing how that hurts. "Let me see. You could have third-degree burns."

She loosened the makeshift bandage and peered at her arm. Good, no blisters. Red rash, though. She smelled spice, like cinnamon.

I glanced up to see her looking at me, hard. "Do you always carry around a wet swimsuit?" she asked. She indicated her arm, where I'd rewrapped my Speedo.

"You never know when you might need one."

She laughed. Infectious it was.

"Thanks, Clarke." She removed the suit. Tried to. My hands were gripping her arm so hard she had to pry them loose.

"Sorry." I let go fast. Rewind. She knows my name.

"I can't believe I did that." She rubbed her arm. "How am I going to get through the morning without coffee?" Holding the now empty cup, she retrieved chunks of a coffee-soaked donut and dropped the soggy mess into the cup.

"There's a coffee machine in the cafeteria," I told her.

"Yea?' Her eyes lit up. "Thanks. You're a lifesaver." She plucked my swimsuit off the floor and held it up by the crotch. "Literally."

I snatched it away and she smirked. Returning to my locker, I jammed the suit into the duffel and rezipped it.

"Where do you swim?"

I sprang upright. She'd followed me and was leaning against the locker next to mine.

"In the pool." Well, duh, Clarke. Dazzle her with your brilliant repartee. "The school's pool. Downstairs. Open win begins at six and I can get a few laps in before the first hour. My morning cup of coffee."

"Here eyebrows arched. "You're seriously demented."

My stomach jumped. I wished it'd stop doing that.

"I'm Lexa Woods." She stuck her hand out.

"I know. Clarke--"

"Griffin. I know." We both let out little laughs, nervous like, then shook hands. She said, "You're student body president."

"How did you know that?"

She shrugged. "I asked around."

"Clarke, hey." Finn's voice echoed down the hall. I realized I was still holding Lexa's hand and dropped it fast. Why? We were just getting acquainted. He sauntered down the hall, a tower of books under his arm. His free hand snaked around my waist and pulled me into him. "Long time no do this." He bent down and kissed me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lexa push off the locker and walk away.

Finn finished with me and said, "Come on. I'll walk you to class."

I hauled down my literature and calculus books, which Finn took and added to his stack. At the end of the hall, I glanced back over my shoulder to see her headed in the opposite direction.

She'd asked around. Huh. Why would she do that?

* * *

We headed toward the parking lot at lunch to rendezvous with everyone else at my Jeep. We'd decided to eat off-campus at least a couple of days a week. On the way, I informed Finn of my no-shool-night rule. He wasn't pleased. not that I'm surprised. "I'll see what I can do about borrowing the Regal Friday night," he said.

"No, Finn. You know I hate doing it in your dad's car."

"Okay, I'll check to see if the villa is free."

He was mad. Haha, wonderful. "I'm sorry, but it's just gross."

"Then your place."

"Steven's coming back tomorrow," I told him.

Finn sulked all the way to Taco Bell. He didn't mind doing it right under my mother's nose, but horrors of my stepfather should catch us. What was that, some kind of guy thing? Granted, Steven was the size of a linebacker, but underneath the blubber, he was a big teddy bear. Finn knows that.

He was still sullen half an hour later when we got back to school. "I hate this," he said, stalling at the door after the others had done in. 

"Yeah, me too." Not really, it seems all we do is have sex. We don't talk much anymore.

He lifted my chin with a finger. "Let's just get married."

"Okay. Mhm. After econ, though, because I have an assignment to turn in. And we're not consummating the union in your dad's car."

Finn blinked. "You're assuming we'd make it out of the church."

I kicked him and he wrestled me into his arms.

* * *

I resumed my same seat in art. I always do that, pick a spot the first day and never move. What does that say about me? Boring and predictable. Everyone else had shifted around. Carter, geek-cum-punk, slid in beside me. "Yo," he said.

"Yo yourself," I said back.

She wasn't in her seat. I scanned the studio and located her a couple of tables over, by the picture window. She was turned away from me, gazing outside.

Look at me, I thought. just look at me.

God, Clarke. Shut it off. What was that about? I concentrated on doodling in my spiral. Concentrated on not looking at her.

Peter rushed in, balancing a stack of videotapes on a slide carousel. "Sorry, I'm late." He dumped the load on his desk. "Roll call. Everyone here? Good." He opened a drawer and pulled out a ream of blank newsprint. "Pass these around," he said, splitting the paper between the front two tables. "My stash of pencils has gone AWOL, so use whatever you've got. Pencil, pen, lipstick."

As Carter passed me a sheet of paper, I saw Peter drag a tall stool over to the front and set an apple on the seat. "Draw this," he said, spreading his arms dramatically over the stool.

I panicked. If this was a test, I thought, I'm toast. It took a while to focus my attention on the task at hand, distracted as I was by Echo passion Lexa a pencil, and Lexa smiling thanks. She had a nice smile. I wondered how her arm was if I should ask. Ask why she asked around about me. I studied the assignment. Granny Smith apple. Sour. My mouth watered. T best ones for pies, though, Mom always a said.

A few minutes into it, my cell rang. "Shit," I hissed under my breath. I must've forgotten to turn it off. Naturally, the phone had fallen to the bottom of my bag, under layers of detritus. It rang and rang. I finally fished it out. "What?"

"Hey, Clarke."

"Finn, I'm in class," I whispered and ducked my head as if that was going to make me invisible.

"So am I," he whispered back. "I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry about early. About being such a grump."

"Okay, it's fine. Whatever."

"I love you."

"Yeah. sane. Hang up, idiot." I folded the phone. "Sorry," I said to Peter and all the other people about me who were gawking. Including Lexa. I rolled my eyes and she grinned.

It took me a minute to remember the assignment. Get going again. "Okay," he said, startling me. "Sign your masterpieces somewhere, front preferably, and hand them in. You won't get graded. I just want the first crack at the next budding Picasso."

I glanced over my drawing. Not bad. I'd captured the essence of form, anyway. I watched as her essence of form exited the door with Echo.

* * *

We had a student council meeting after school. I called the meeting to order, then deferred to our new faculty advisor, Mr. Weiler. He asked us to introduce ourselves, tell what class we were in, what office we held. Finn he already knew. Probably from bio or something, since Mr. Weiler was the new head of the science department.

Finn ended his spiel with, "I'm Clarke's vice," which cracked everyone up. I'm not sure Weiler got it. He was going to be as fun as a box of mold.

The council was composed of six class representatives, plus officers. Morgan was secretary. Weiler asked her to please read the minutes of the last meeting we'd held before the break. She did, then flipped her steno pad, and added, "Oh, and we voted. It was unanimous. Our new faculty rep would have to strip to his tighty-whities and do the chikjen dance at an all-school assembly."

We all smothered grins.

Weiler's eyes about shattered his spectacles.

Morgan added to him, "It's a joke."

"Oh," He chortled. "Ha. Good one."

Oy. I took back the meeting from Clueless Guy. "Community Service Week is coming up in February," I announced. "What do we want to do this year?"

Morgan piped up, "Condemn the cafeteria? That'd be a service to the community."

Everyone laughed. Morgan huffed. "Hey, I'm serious."

Right. We brainstormed ideas that were actually doable and settled on a blood drive, canned-food collection for the homeless shelter, and a read-a-ton for local nursing homes. Same as last year. How boring and predictable is that?

On the way out, Morgansnagged me and said, "Octavia told me to tell you that Mrs. Bonnie was still looking for you."

"Damn." I pinched the bridge of my nose. Morgan added, "If you go to the college and career center, would you pick me up a catalog for the community college?" Thanks." She jogged over to John, who was waiting for her by the office. John. He must've been her third or fourth boyfriend this year. I watched as she practically mauled him against the trophy case. He looked so young. But then he would, considering he was a freshman. I wondered if I should tell her what people were saying. Suggest maybe she cool it in school.

Finn came up behind me and poked me in the ribs. I yelped and slapped him away. "Keep Friday night open," he murmured in my ear. "I have a solution to our problem." He swaggered away toward the chem labs.

I scanned the back of his long, lean frame, letting out an audible sigh. One thing about Finn. He had a solution for everything.


End file.
